Disclaimer:

I do not own Sonic, Knuckles, or any other characters who appear in this story. They belong to Sega.

Description:

A time of hardship finds friends reaching out and dealing with a difficult situation as best they know how. One-shot

Weald & Kindle

The Forest is burning. Nothing can be done.

:::

Knuckles finds him sitting on the edge, legs dangling dangerously over a drop that is many miles deep. He makes no attempt to speak, rather takes a seat beside the other quietly, and takes out the small pad and pencil he brought along.

It's been hours. He's not sure of the time anymore; it is two, maybe three in the morning, but the landscape below still glows hatefully with embers of fire.

He's just come from the makeshift camp near the center of the island, where dozens of now, refugees, reside. Most have finally settled enough to attempt sleep.

Quick action by the freedom fighters spared any lives from being lost in the fire, but there are injured, and people are scared. Most had lived their entire lives in that forsaken bit of land. All eyes look now to the echidna and hedgehog; Sonic especially, to lead the cause through this difficult time.

When the wind picks up, a hint of charred scent comes with it. Knuckles writes this down; the smell, the feeling, the scene before him. As he writes, he notices Sonic eyeing the notepad conspicuously, still all remains quiet but for the etching sounds of lead to paper.

Some time passes before the pencil is laid down. It could be complete; though, the mood is darker than he'd intended.

"Is it ever going to stop?" The hedgehog finally speaks. His voice is quite. He sounds defeated.

The echidna does not answer right away. The wind brushes past again, and this time he senses something different. Quickly he picks up the pencil and another string of words fall to the page. Just as he finishes, the pad is ripped from his hand.

"STOP IT! What the hell are you writing anyway? I don't want to see a list of all our problems right now! Just leave me alone." Sonic is standing now, glaring.

Knuckles is startled, but not surprised. "It is not a list," he replies, calmly standing up, still facing the edge. "See out there, on the horizon," he asks. No reply. He continues anyway. "Rain clouds."

With that he turns to leave. When he has almost entered the tree line, he pauses and looks back.

"The notepad, it's…it's a memory. Keep it. And Sonic…don't stay out here all night."

Sonic watches him go silently. When he is alone, he reclaims his seat on the edge, and looks at the contents of little pad.

:::

From lands edge, the view

that once stretched outward for miles

is obscured by silent puffs of rising soot.

The lit underbellies of clouds betray evidence of a cinder valley below.

Like a torrential flood to land, the forest dissolves into flame.

Yet, far in the western distance salvation hangs dense,

calling for the wind.

:::

Looking out at the horizon, Sonic suddenly feels he has seen enough. Quietly, he flees the harsh scene, seeking solace amongst friends instead.

Fin.

Authors note:

I've been debating what to do with this ficlet for a while. I took a prose and poetry class a few semesters ago, shortly after starting to write Fractured Frequency (FF). I couldn't use that piece in my class, but I had Knuckles on the brain, so I approached the subject in a different way. I envisioned a scene, seen for Knuckles' point of view, where he sat on the edge of the island, watching the forest below burn. It was an idea that I considered for FF, but didn't really fit there. The original poem that was produced as a result is contained within this story, and this ficlet grew around it as a way to give the scene greater reason for being.

As I mentioned, I debated what to do with it for a while. The ficlet was written many months ago as a sort of distant flashback to fit somewhere within FF, but as it progressed, I feel it took on an independent identity. It's a bit of a strange piece even for me, but there is still something I really like about it.

Anyway, this is quite a long note for such a short story, but I have a tendency to like to explain my motive. I hope you at least enjoyed it.

- Sarilleny